Love Hard With a Vengeance
by That Dude's Alias
Summary: Love Knockers, Joy Blockers… Every Insecurity & Betrayal Is Always Served Hard On a Silver Platter. The Only Question Is What Will Fill Their Hunger: Passion’s dessert or Heartache’s disaster? BL


**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed… Inspired by Keri Hilson's _Knock You Down_

I don't know if I should continue, so tell me what you think, okay?

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_Hard With a Vengeance_

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Winter in New York City was always a beautiful Wonderland and that day was no exception. Bright rays of sun welcomed morning to the sleeping city, though white frozen clouds dimmed the burning star's effect. Usually orange refractions transformed in yellow prisms against skyscraping towers. The buildings' metal infrastructures fogged over with icy steam patches. Instead of rain running down glass panes, thick sheets of freezing flakes faltered down amongst the brightly lit city.

Gritty pounds of pure snow rested on sidewalks and busy pedestrians sidestepped the Miniature Mountains. Each individual flake danced to a rhythm of the winds. Harsh, razor sharp breezes sliced painful bruises into the human flesh. Shivers quaked the body with unknown aches and pains from the climate. Frost settled in the depth of once flexible joints only to petrify tendons into statues.

Like moths to a flame, the citizens piled together in a rainbow hued cluster. A gaggled of personal shoppers, parents, businesspersons and women linked arms to fight off the cold. White Fleece trenches contrasted black wool blazers, while threaded colorful skullcaps competed with the ear muffles and cotton hard fedoras. Twenty-year-old Lucas Scott appeared to fit perfectly into the trendy yet preoccupied NY natives.

Sporting a navy-blue skullcap, flaxen curls glared out from the base of the cap and tugged closer to the dark thread. A matching blue high collared, fleece pullover covered the thin dark pink thermal molded to his muscular abdomen. The hem of dark fitted jeans tucked into the tall navy with pink outlined _Jordan's _high-tops covering his feet. Strapped across Lucas' broad chest, a khakis saddlebag hung loosely from his left shoulder.

Piercing blue eyes shifted left to right at the cross walk. Traffic was thicker than usual with the newly iced over roads. On most streets, the snowmobiles shoveled large quantities of snow from the blocked highways. Handsome features furrowed with nervous anticipation as he crossed the walkway with his fellow peers. Lean legs hurried between the stalling cars until he was on the opposite side of the street.

Black razor cell phone pulled to his ear, the Brooder listened to his girlfriend's ring-back tone:

_Ain't nothing covering my eyes, Ain't gonna see it more than twice. _

_I get it, I got it, baby! But I gotta come down to earth, I don't wanna but I gotta let you go, _

_but baby I don't wanna and I, I gotta see that you and me ain't meant to be!That's why I tell myself:_

"Br_ooo_ke," A desperate growl slipped from the lowest pit of his throat. Long fingers tightened over the flattened mechanism to steady his heart, "We are meant to be, you just don't know it yet."

Truth resonated inside from the power of Ciara's Never Ever. Though he considered Brooke Penelope Davis his girlfriend, it was hard to tell sometimes. Last year, Brooke went into Berkeley under Fashion Management with a Scholarship from Rogue Vogue and Lucas moved to NYC to be near the woman he loved. It had taken a relationship and amicable breakup with Peyton Sawyer, his girlfriend's ex-best friend, for him to realize how much he needed _his_ Pretty Girl.

The revelation prompted the Brooder to chase after her without consideration to his future. Thankfully, topnotch grades and determination allotted the blonde admittance into Berkeley as a journalism major. After weeks of persuasion and begging, Brooke took him back as her boyfriend under the condition that they would take things slowly in order to build back trust. A trust Lucas had broken so many times he feared it was irreparable, yet hope glimmered within his reach. The future Fashionista moved him into the loft apartment her parents bought for her graduation present. Most of their time was spent together was watching television, fearing the intimacy they avoided or rather he avoided.

No sex until she fully trusted him Again.

The rule created by him until they were fully committed had really blown up in his face. Some nights he would leave their loft and hear silent moans from her finding other methods of pleasure. Honestly, it pissed him off that she could find relief so easily whilst he suffered late nights dreaming about her. All it would take was one night in his bed, and he knew he would own every crevice and corner of her heart.

I DO NOT NEED YOU- Motto, favorite quote, whatever one wanted to call it. Brooke said those words more often to him than _I love you_. Part of the Brooder knew his betrayals had constructed the barbwire fences surrounding her heart but determination was his steady companion. Together they could accomplish anything, especially both having jobs. Andy, newly married to his mother, found Lucas a job with the New York Post.

After a year of hard work, he scored a raise and promotion as the Newest Junior Sports Reporter. Lucas couldn't wait to tell _his_ Pretty girl that he finally made enough money for her to quit her second job as a waitress. Brooke's internet success with _Clothes Over Bro's _afforded her tuition and the workers for the company, but she also had a second job to save up for a car. Apparently, Richard and Victoria Davis cut her off financially after the feisty brunette refused to marry a wealthy hotel heir.

_If that boy don't love you by now…_

Heartache rippled inside of him with very step of his shoes on the pavement. The brawny male found his body swaying painfully to the music as he made his way past different baristas and café's. Finally, Lupe's Diner appeared in the distance. Just across the street, the diner fit into the cut between the local Starbucks and McDonalds. The entrance to Lupe's Diner was a large glass partition that gave the entire city of view of the inside.

Plush red booths filled with customers eating breakfast. Pink walls were covered in various pictures of celebrities. Of course, the waitresses behind the cash register, in the kitchen, and his beautiful girlfriend serving the customers. Regular street clothes were allowed, therefore the pink fuzzy sweater constricting the sexy shape of her chest. A golden nametag identified her as an employee. Setting down the plates for her clients, the brunette dug into her pocket for her cell phone.

_He will never ever, never ever love you-_

"_Hello, Luke! Broody! Tell Me! Tell Me_!" Lucas heard Brooke's voice break into a seriously, energetic ramble. Watching her from the café window, a crooked smile adorned his chiseled jaw line. The customers seated in front giggled as the brunette jumped up and down. Red tint spirals bounced in the air, carrying scent of raspberries through the air.

"_Guys! Guys! I think he got the job_!_ Broody, I'm putting you on speaker phone_."

Contagious- everything about her was addictive, spread like wildfire among dry brush. Brooke Davis was contagious and the laughing disease spread to all the customers. That was probably what made the future Fashionista a favorite amongst everyone at the eatery. Laughter spewed from the pit of his belly all over his body. Excitement boosted the confidence in his soul that once hid in the background. A chuckling spell fell over his body as the brunette held the phone above her head.

"Ha-ha, hold on, Tiger." His voice echoed out into diner.

The petite waitress used her empty left hand to push long strands behind her ears. The tiny fingers twisted a couple of the chocolate strands around in a circle as she bit her bottom lip. Never, had he witnessed anything sexier and truly angelic. "Look out the window baby, and you'll see the newest junior reporter for the New York Post!"

Brooke's head snapped towards the window, russet locks spraying her face. Hazel irises comparable to the sunrise opened wide, golden sparkles twinkling at the sight of her man. Lucas stood at the window, waving at the customers. More cheers followed with the surprising sight. The junior reporter observed deep dimples denting her cheeks until a gorgeous smile stole his soul. Hands flew together in loud clapping and hollering at their GREAT fortune.

"**WOOHOO! YEAH! HA-HA**!" _Clap! Clap! _"**CONGRATULATION**!"

Fast as lightening, the tiny brunette shot out the door, pink cell phone flying at into a random booth. The two entrance doors swung open, slapping the glass windows behind them-_BOW_! The noise was like a gun firing, but neither Brooke nor _her_ Broody cared about the sound. Running on six-inch heeled Manolo Blahniks towards her boyfriend, clinking against the gravel pavement loudly.

The customers watched like spectators as the brunette darted through icy traffic to her boyfriend. Just inches before collision, Brooke screamed in a singsong manner, "Congratulations Boyfriend!"

The sexy vixen swung her arms out from around his neck. Their bodies almost crashed, but the small of her back ached away from his chest. Muscular biceps wrapped tightly around the petite beauty's waist. Strong arms heaved his goddess's form up his torso, long legs wrapping around him. A curtain of fruit scented Persian silk showered his baby smooth face, followed closely by chaste kisses.

"Ha- hell baby! I did it!" A gruff chuckle pierced her ears through rushed lips.

Happiness coursed every fiber of his being and replenished his body with heavenly energy. Lucas twisted his firm legs in a circular rotation. All of his strength swung her around in his arms. Sparkling red highlights swung all in the frosting air. Frozen winds ran invisible fingers over sensitive flesh, sending tingles throughout her body. Each tingle transformed into ticklish flutters over a flat tummy.

"Ha-ha, ha Broody!" Plump lips parted, mouth grapping open, and a Loud, precious giggles echoed the busy streets. Pedestrians walked past, seemingly unfazed, but anyone who saw the two lovers knew the true meaning of loving hard. "All of our, ha, our, our dreams are coming true! Ha-ha!"

Our Dreams? The words halted Broody and Cheery, Lover and Friend in their positions. Cerulean eyes connected with hazel irises, all else fazed out. The chronic riving of engines and coughs of smokers were banished into a black hole. Music set brash ears aflame and stroked the strings of his heart. Brooke wasn't certain why she said the dreaded words when she feared opening her heart to him. Nevertheless, with the spoken words, everything felt right.

"Our?" Flaxen eyebrows raised at the question whilst golden lashes fluttered. Deep, curiosity lined his voice, "I mean, really? Our?"

Did she, does she?

"Ugh, Yeah." There was hesitance.

Long legs loosened from the curved of narrowed hips. Graceful legs shifted until petite feet found the gravel, yet she clung to him. Brittle nails lightly scratched the tiny curls along his nape. Tiny fingers ran light up and down his neck. The tips of her fingers grazed like features over rough, leathery flesh. The fill of her demanded his attention and large hands lingered on wide hips. The fashionista ran a moist tongue over the outline of her mouth.

It was seductive, sexy; Lucas inhaled a gust of wind before pursing chapped lips. The harsh pillows formed into an _O_, "Ooooh, um," air refused to enter his lungs, "Ahm, do you mean that you finally trust me fully?"

Sultry, raspy, and true, seduction caressed his skin with joy, "I, I think so. I know that I love you and I want you. Trust is hard for me, but I'm ready to give you all of me." A devilish grin spread over her lips, "And I do mean all of me at least for the next hour. We need to celebrate. I'm off now and I don't have class until three so let me just go get my cell phone."

Finally!

Finally, the woman that made his dreams a reality was standing beside him. Passion filled the blood coursing through masculine veins. Brooke Penelope Davis was his heart, his soul. Standing in the mist of New York City in the snow, he could have been running on a beach in Florida. Scorching heat and desire flushed tanned skin with a red blush. Every portion of his body wanted to keep her as close as possible.

"_GOD_, I love you, Pretty Girl," His voice rattled huskily. The tiny brunette opened her mouth to respond, but her breath was stolen when he yanked her against him, "I, ahg!"

The sudden unearthing of her body caused her to wobble. Struggling for balance, perky toes pushed upward so that she gained a foot. Strong hands steadied Brooke's slender waist until her curvaceous form molded perfectly into his lanky build. Blonde curls peaking out from under the skullcap slipped onto her face with the dipping of his face to hers. Then strands rubbed against the tiny snowflake on her cheeks.

Warm lips captured warmth of her cinnamon scented breath. Strawberry glossed lips smothered a deep kiss over his parting mouth. Hungrily, the Brooder devoured juicy pillows of flesh with biting teeth. Each veneer sunk into the tasty mistral until she winced, "Crss-Broody, _hmm_Luke maybe we should move the foreplay home."

"Yeah, Beautiful," The blonde withdrew his mouth from her delicate lips. A genuine grin tugged the corners of his mouth, "But I have to ask you a question," A brief pause followed before a deep screeching plead, "Cheery, marry me."

That moment… That single, solitary moment of those cursed words being uttered was his biggest fuck up. Happiness slipped from the Fashion Goddess' porcelain face and fractured like glass. It was as if a stake were driven through he heart- surprise and fear plaguing her thoughts. Evil voices whispered truths: _Lucas Eugene Scott is a Liar, a Cheater! You'd be stupid to marry to him. What if he still loves Peyton? _

There was no Devil's Advocate to prove his love. Every insecurity, every night she cried over him, destroyed her. Truthfully, she could NEVER trust him again. Not when Peyton existed or some other woman who loved Robert Frost and The Who. Not when she had nothing in common with him except for a desire to make be together, to make each other happy.

"What?" Voluptuous lips trembled, both hands slipping from his neck. Toned yet small arms fell limply to her side while an hurt expression formed. Burning liquid glazed over troubling eyes, which darted back and forth for some sort of explanation. "Wha, wha-what?"

"Marry me." The Brooder nodded desperately for her to say something before rambling, "I know we're young, but we already live together. And we both know you would have married me in high school…" some how his voice died out in her ears until a small utterance caught her attention. "…Plus, I don't want anyone else and-"

_BNNNG! _

Both jumped apart at the explosive horn sounding from a semi-truck passing the sidewalk. A large gust of snowdrift flew into their faces hard. Suddenly, a rush of traffic and voices broke their internal connection. Thick bodies parted them like the Red Sea, the lunch hour ushering businessmen and women. A wave of arms and legs thrust both back away from each other.

"Brooke, I'm coming!" Lucas yelled out to her, heavy weight covered his tongue to the point of numbness. Helplessly he struggled through the crowd to get to Brooke, hands and arms flailing through the rainbow hued crowd. It wasn't until the new reporter read glossed lips that he realized she was running. "I gotta go."

"Babe, please wait!"

Thousands of faces entered his vision and left with the same pace. Burning eyes held her steady image as she drifted backwards from him. He fought hard, kicking out strong arms into a sudden sprint. Yet the street was over populated and her body disappeared with the never-ending pedestrians.

"Don't leave me."

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**Read and Review! **Okay, so Is this worth Continuing or what?!


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